Author's Note: I'm sorry for another long interval between updates. But you know how it goes – the impediments of priorities, writer's block, sheer laziness, etc. I'm just worried that my writing has worsened due to the long lapse in time and will subsequently disappoint you.
Author's Note 2: Italicized sentences in ' ' are thoughts.
Feedback: Greatly appreciated. The more feedback I get, the more I will be motivated to write! So if I don't receive any, I'll take that as a sign that I suck and that I shouldn't write anymore...
PART IX: Rude Awakenings
"Sammler, Jessie?"
As I entered the auditorium, Jessie was already being called onstage to audition. 'Right on time…' But the same could not have been said for Jessie.
"Sammler, Jessie!" called Miss Lafleur a second time, raising her voice louder than before. "Is Jessie Sammler here?"
When no one answered, Miss Lafleur was preparing to move on to the next person.
"Jessie Sammler… Going once, going twice…"
Suddenly the heavy, metal door of the auditorium entrance swung open, nearly hitting me in the face. It was Jessie. She rushed past me, not noticing my presence.
"I'm here. I'm here," said Jessie twice, making sure that we most definitely knew that she was here.
"Hey, Jessie, you're here!" exclaimed Tad with a wide grin, stupidly restating the obvious.
"Hey, Tad," greeted Jessie, a bit distracted.
Jessie rested her bag on the seat next to Tad and hurriedly opened it. She ransacked its contents, searching for something, but couldn't find what she was looking for. Amusingly, her face grew more and more distraught.
I knew what she wanted. It rested inside my pants… The small Shakespearean book that had unnoticeably fell from Jessie's hands earlier that afternoon sat snugly in my back pocket.
"Miss Sammler, I would like to continue on with auditions, if that's okay with you," said Miss Lafleur, growing impatient.
"Okay. I'm coming," relented Jessie, giving up her vain pursuit.
Tad made a gesture, offering his own book, but Jessie waved her hand dismissively. She told him something that was inaudible from my distance and then pointed to her bag. Tad nodded his head. Then, after taking a deep breath, Jessie walked onto the stage.
As Jessie stood, nervous and uncomfortable, beneath the bright lights of the stage, she looked… different. The blinding light, which was harsh to most, suited her; its brilliant radiance glorified the delicate features of her face, giving it a warm glow. And as Jessie unconsciously bit her lip, I caught myself smiling adoringly at the worried girl then chastened myself immediately. 'What the fuck are you doing, Singer?' I had almost forgotten why I came to the trivial event – to ascertain the identity of Jessie's informer.
With undeterred focus, I marched directly toward the seat between Tad and Jessie's bag.
"Katie?" Tad was in disbelief. He was just short of rubbing his eyes when he saw the person sitting next to him. "What are you doing here?"
Russell, who was sitting in the seat in front of Tad, had hurriedly turned his head at the mention of my name, not wanting to miss witnessing what seemed to them as a rare occurrence; he had almost given himself whiplash.
'Why are they looking at me like I'm a sign of the apocalypse? Is it so hard to believe that I would be here? I could have wanted to support my friends… Yeah, no… Actually, no.'
"Are you trying out?" asked Russell, half-doubtingly.
"Hardly…" I began, being honest with them. "This school theater bullshit is for fags who have no lives, so they decide to fuck away their weekends rehearsing long, garrulous plays that no one will ever watch except for their complaisant families and other people who feel forcibly obligated to… No offense."
"None taken," said Russell, holding up a hand of understanding.
"Hey!" protested Tad. "Russell may be here because he's a fag, but I'm here for all the hot shorties. If I get the part of Claudio then Joanna Franco will have to kiss me, even if she's repulsed by me… It's in the play."
Russell stared at Tad petulantly.
"What?"
After a cool pause, Russell abruptly slapped Tad across the back of his head.
"Idiot…"
"Ow, dude! What the fuck?" lamented Tad as he gingerly rubbed the growing pain at the back of his head.
"So if you're not trying out then why are you here?" asked Russell, ignoring the sulking Tad who tried to counter with a punch to the arm, only to be blocked and slapped across the head yet again.
"Oh, right," I said, almost forgetting my intentions a second time. I reached for Jessie's bag then carelessly began to go through it.
"Hey, that's Jessie's bag!" announced Tad.
"I know," I said, while still rummaging for the letter.
"But Jessie told me to watch her bag for her," said Tad hesitantly, unsure if he should stop me.
"Well, technically, you are watching her bag," I reasoned. "Here's the bag, and there you are… watching it."
"Oh yeah," smiled Tad moronically, proud he wasn't breaching his duty.
"Good job," I sarcastically remarked, patting Tad on the back.
Tad still genuinely smiled and sat tall in his seat, believing he had truly accomplished something great. I simply rolled my eyes, which had become a natural reflex in response to Tad, and then focused my attention on the letter which I now victoriously held. Brashly, I unfolded the slander-filled note and zipped through its contents.
"No fucking way…" I interjected as I stared at the sender's signature. "This is unbelievable!"
In my total shock, I must have lost my prudence of voice because soon everyone's focus was on me.
"What was that, Miss Singer?" asked Miss Lafleur, participating in the collective gaze of bewilderment.
"Uh…" Surreptitiously, I placed the letter back into Jessie's bag, which was tactfully hidden from Jessie's view. "This is unbelievable…" I began coolly, trying to cover my misstep. "Jessie's acting, I mean…"
"She's just…" I stared at Jessie who was looking back at me with narrowed eyes of suspicion. She looked almost contemptuous, for Jessie was incapable of exhibiting true contempt. "Wow," I beamed with staged admiration. "Right, Tad?"
"Oh yeah," added Tad, after being sharply prodded. "Jessie's acting is so unbelievable… I can't believe a word she says."
Russell snickered openly, no longer able to suppress his laughter. It was amusing to him how his friends could not help tasting the soles of their feet.
"Wait…" back-peddled Tad. "I didn't mean it like that. What I meant was…"
"What Tad meant," I said, quickly interrupting Tad before he did any irreparable damage. "Was that each word, which floats from Jessie's divine mouth, is so ethereal that his limited, earthly mind cannot grasp the unbounded beauty of it."
"Smooth…" praised Miss Lafleur. She then stared at me with calculating eyes, seemingly entertaining dangerous ideas within her pretty head that was crowned with fiery scarlet. "Miss Singer, why don't you come down here and assist Miss Sammler with her audition."
"What?" I asked, taken aback.
"What?" echoed Jessie, with more worry than disbelief.
"I think it would be best if Katie auditions with you," explained Miss Lafleur. "You don't mind, do you? I mean, it would save me a lot of time, and you were late, so…"
"No," relented Jessie, almost unwillingly. "I guess I don't mind."
"Great," beamed Miss Lafleur, ignoring Jessie's apparent discomfort. "Katie, please come to the stage."
Russell was now laughing hysterically. The hilarity of my unsolicited predicament was too appealing to refuse. But as I stood to walk onstage, Russell's laughter immediately ceased. It seemed a blunt object had inexplicably collided with the back of his head.
"Sure…" I replied as I walked down the aisle. "Anything for you Miss Lafleur." I evocatively winked at her as I passed her by. Subsequently, the auditorium filled with childish "ooh"s and teasing quips.
"All right, that's enough Miss Singer," admonished Miss Lafleur, who had become quite flushed. "Everyone, settle down."
I jumped onto the stage, avoiding the stairs located at both ends, for it was much more convenient. Then I stood next to Jessie who hurtfully seemed unpleased to see me. But I overlooked her antagonism and greeted her with an innocent smile, admirably trying to restore amicability between us.
"What are you doing here?" seethed Jessie, not believing my good-natured disposition.
"Hmm?" I looked up from the book, which I had already pulled out from my back pocket and was presently skimming through. "Oh, I'm sorry," I said, acknowledging the glowering blonde. "Did you not know? They're holding auditions here."
"I know that," said Jessie, growing aggravated. "That's why I'm here. What's your reason?"
I paused and intently looked into Jessie's eyes that attempted to convey hatred but failed miserably.
"Now you needn't worry," I said, reading Jessie's concerns. "I have no illicit intentions. I would not dream of insulting you."
I reassuringly smiled then tucked behind Jessie's ear the loose strand of hair that always seemed to rebel against her tight and proper bun. Jessie became nervous and worriedly glanced over at the audience, fearing their reactions.
"Christ, Singer," teased one of the onlookers. "Are you always on?"
The others began to laugh in response. Jessie exhaled a breath of relief, thankful that no insults – well-meaning or otherwise – were directed at her. Miss Lafleur, however, was not as pleased.
"All right. Everyone, settle down," commanded Miss Lafleur, placating the crowd once more.
"Miss Singer, Miss Sammler…" She glared at Jessie with deep annoyance and subtle jealousy. "If you are about done with your private conversation, I would like to continue with auditions."
"I'm sorry," groveled Jessie, who stared submissively at the floor.
"Mmhmm," said Miss Lafleur, dismissing Jessie's apology. "Act I, scene 1, starting with line 108. Miss Singer, please begin."
"All right. Uh…" I opened the book and searched for the said page.
"You want me to read for Signor Benedick?" I asked, a bit confused.
"Yes," said Miss Lafleur non-chalantly. "Is that a problem?"
"No. But isn't Signor Benedick–" I sought the words that would best express this. "A dude?"
"Miss Singer, art does not know gender lines. In Shakespearean times, didn't boys play women?"
"Yeah, but that's because women weren't permitted to act in theaters. So, technically, art does acknowledge gender lines."
"Just read the lines," deadpanned Miss Lafleur, irked at being corrected.
Complaisantly, I looked for the line again, inhaled a deep breath and began.
"If Signor Leonato be her father, she would not have his head on her shoulders for all Messina, as like him as she is."
"I wonder that you will still be talking, Signor Benedick," said Jessie, amazingly from memory. "Nobody marks you."
"What, my dear Lady Disdain! Are you yet living?"
"Is it possible disdain should die while she hath such meet food to feed it as Signor Benedick? Courtesy itself must convert to disdain, if you come in her presence."
"Then is courtesy a turncoat. But it is certain I am loved of all ladies, only you excepted;" I paused before continuing, being struck by the lines' odd reflection of reality. "And I would I could find in my heart that I had not a hard heart, for truly… I love none."
"A dear happiness to women!" countered Jessie, becoming immersed in the performance. "They would else have been troubled with a pernicious suitor. I thank God, and my cold blood, I am of your humor for that; I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow than a man swear he loves me."
Our lines were now spoken heatedly as if they were our own.
"God keep your ladyship still in that mind! So some gentleman or other shall 'scape a predestinate scratched face!"
"Scratching could not make it worse, an 't were such a face as yours were!"
"Yeah? Well at least my head is proportionate with the rest of my body, unlike that midget boyfriend of yours!"
"What!"
"With that huge, bulbous head of his, I'm amazed he can still stand!"
"Well, at least he's not a pompous, bi-polar jerk like you!"
I paused in shock, surprisingly hurt by Jessie's words. A newly arisen emotion had overcome me, and I stood, confused, not knowing how to react. 'Why do I care what she says?' I had been called similar words – even harsher words – numerous times before, but they had never affected me then. 'So why now? What was different?'
"Wow…" said Miss Lafleur in total awe. "I love this. I love it! Although I could have done without your improvisational skills, I found you two did an excellent job! You both were able to naturally convey the intense sexual tension between Beatrice and Benedick. I really felt like it was there… Brava!"
I suppose we should have been elated by Miss Lafleur's immense praise, but instead we stood silent and emotionally torn. Jessie's chest was heaving with angered breaths, while her blue and soulful eyes poured with sorrow and regret. Sharply, she turned around and walked offstage; leaving me to stand alone and wallow in the scrutinizing gaze of the audience, which I suddenly became conscious of. I had always welcomed others' attention, wanting them to bear witness to my many conquests and to subsequently entitle me with well-deserved greatness. But now, I could not bear their judging eyes or the searing burn of the harsh, revealing lights; so I scurried offstage like a lowly coward, seeking cover in the veiling darkness.
Although, the air was static, there was a feeling of change that had enveloped me. I felt sick. My head burned; my body trembled. My eyes became blind; my ears – deaf. Nothing could be heard except for the raucous beating of my heart whose rapid pulse caused my lungs to explode in frantic breaths. I felt as though I was dying… What was this horrible, bewildering feeling that dominated control of my body? 'My god…'
I was in love.
